There's a longer pause for this.
“I think....well, I think he'll think it's a bad look regardless – which it is. As the captain of the team that drafted – and is currently winning with – the first gay man in hockey, he won't want the look of strife in the locker room.”
That makes sense. Still, there's one thing that sticks with me.
“Firstoutgay man.”
“Huh?”
“I'd never claim to be the first gay man in the NHL. I think you – and I, and the rest of this plane – all know that there have been queer men playing this sport since before I was born, and there will be queer men playing it long after I'm gone. Regardless of whether they say it out loud.”
He stares at me.
“You think...there are others?”
“I told you that day in the locker room – statistically speaking, there are maybe fifty of us?”
I'm surprised to see his eyes grow wet.
“Wherearethey, Jamie?”
And I realize – I wasn't the only one on this plane who needed to know I wasn't alone in this.
“I think...I think they're probably afraid. Of old-timers, of coaches, of agents...of rocking the boat and ending up alone in the water. I think they're afraid, Ethan.”
For the restof the flight, Ethan stares out the window. I worry that I've overstepped, but he doesn’t seem angry, just…pensive? In Calgary, the wind is even more brutal than back in Minnesota; clearly, Ethan knows I'm unprepared for the weather – he hands me a beanie as we step off the plane.
The bus to the hotel is mostly spent rubbing my hands together and waiting for the feeling to return to the tip of my nose. With weather like this, it's no wonder Canadians are so interested in hockey – the arena must feel absolutely balmy to them.
Usually when we arrive at a hotel, the team's staff has already checked us in and is waiting with room assignments and keycards. This time, though, there seems to be an issue. As I enter the lobby, it is filled to the brim with hockey players and their bags. Ethan's eyebrows pinch together as he looks around, clearly as puzzled as I am.
“Hey, Rook. Watch my stuff?” He lays his duffle at my feet and heads over to the front desk, where Coach Ramsey looks ready to have a stroke. I can't say that I'm particularly tempted to step into the middle of whatever he's dealing with, but I suppose as captain Ethan's only doing his job.
“You know, is easy to be captain when it's only throwing parties.Thisis where Ethan really earns his C.” Alexei has sat down on the ground at my feet and, seeing no better options, I sit down beside him.
I think about that, remembering back to my first days on the team. I’d been so sure Ethan was a terrible captain – and, to be fair, hewasa pretty shitty captain to me. But he’d always made time for the younger guys on the team – showing Koskinen how to read a play, talking with Finn about how to take a hit.
Alexei is right – Ethan is a great leader for this team, even if Alexei is the unofficial social director.
“What’s going on, you think?”
“Oh, who knows. Housekeeping isn’t done or they want to reiterate rules with management. It happens sometimes. Your college team ever get into trouble at a hotel?”
I thought back to my time with UCLA, where we tended to sleep two or three to a room at the nearest Days Inn. This hotel – even in Calgary – is miles above what I’d grown used to.
“Just the usual. Guys trying to break curfew or kicking out their roommates for a hookup. One time in Arizona, my roommate hooked up with this couple and had his wallet stolen so we were all freaking out because of course he wouldn’t be able to fly without ID.”
Alexei’s eyes light up.
“What did you do?”
“Well, it turned out they didn’t steal it. He was just so enthusiastic to get the condom out that it ended up between the hotel bed and the wall. The assistant coach found it while doing room checks.”
Alexei finds this hilarious, and his laughter draws glances from therest of the guys.
“At least he was safe. I hope he got the coach a nice Christmas present?”
I remember the look of relief on Avery’s face as he gave the graduate student the world’s tightest hug.
